


In The Darkest Part Of Day

by WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: ADHD, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Character, Autism Spectrum, Bisexual Character, Biting, Choking, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Drinking, Emotional, Everyone Is Gay, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Gay Character, Hardcore, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Marking, Masochism, Melodrama, Mental Health Issues, Minor Injuries, Morning After, Mouth Kink, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nail Trauma, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Non-Explicit Sex, Open Relationships, Overstimulation, Pansexual Character, Parkour, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Queer Themes, Restraints, Sadism, Safer Sex, Scent Kink, Spit Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs/pseuds/WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs
Summary: He'd been dating Clay first.  ...Then he met Alex.AU: No powers, no assassins, just a bunch of gays living in New York(First two chapters are smut-free, third is nothing but smut)
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Desmond Miles, Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16/Alex Mercer/Desmond Miles, Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16/Desmond Miles, Rebecca Crane/Dana Mercer, Rebecca Crane/Lucy Stillman
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> clay canonically has a developmental disorder(s?), which usually means either adhd or autism. so of course i was like "why not both" so now is both. because why not have character be like me!! its self-care
> 
> au with no powers and no assassins, probably. just a bunch of gays living in new york being gay at each other. goals tbh
> 
> couldn't think of a title so i just named it after [a laura les/osno1 song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48xXvAEtRpc). considered renaming it after a caroline polachek song, but i wanna save some of those names for future fics, lmao

He'd been dating Clay first. 

It was funny; looking back, their meeting didn't sound like the kind of thing that would lead to a relationship. Clay had been dragged to the bar by his friend; a cute, spunky brunette (who seemed to communicate just fine despite always having her headphones on). And then she'd promptly abandoned him to hang with her other friends. Leaving Clay bored and alone at the bar, disinterestedly nursing a beer while staring at nothing. 

Desmond had seen it all before. It should have been just another typical yet colorful night as a bartender, chatting up lonely jerks with the hopes of maybe earning a slightly bigger tip. 

Something about Clay had been different, though. Maybe it was his appearance: dirty blond hair that always appeared slightly different every time Desmond looked over at him, like he'd been constantly running his hands through it; pale blue eyes that were a bit too wide, like he wasn't entirely there; and the smile that always seemed to show up at inappropriate times. 

Clay was definitely a bit socially weird, he'd picked up on that from the start. Yet there was a sharp wit to him that always showed up at just the right time, rescuing the conversation from the slightest lull and making Desmond literally laugh out loud. It kept him coming back for more the entire night. 

He'd hung around until the end of Desmond's shift, long after the friends he'd arrived with had left. Of course Desmond had to invite the guy over—how could he not?

Even that had been notable: he'd taken home people who'd flirted with him all night before, but Clay was one of the first he took home just so they could keep talking. On the drive over they hadn't stopped, allowing Desmond to learn all about him. That he worked for his dad's company, that the girl he'd arrived with was his coworker (and how she'd abandoned him that night to hang out with her girlfriend), that he didn't get out much except to work and go to his therapy sessions... hence why he had to be dragged out by someone else. 

Honestly, not all that surprising that he had some deeper shit going on. 

When they'd arrived at his apartment, Desmond excused himself to change out of his work clothes. He half expected to find Clay in the bedroom waiting for him, but instead found him still in the living room going through his DVDs and organizing them. 

Weird, but... weirdly endearing, too. 

“You gonna do that all night, or do you wanna mess around?” he teased. 

Clay didn't look up at him but smiled. “Honestly, I could do either. I'm having fun.”

Eventually he was able to drag him to the bedroom. Not like he had to—judging from his body language, Clay wanted this too, he was just nervous and distracted. 

He watched as Clay fidgeted anxiously, tapping each his fingertips to his thumb in an oddly hypnotic way. 

“Hey,” Desmond drew his attention, “Is there anything you want me to know, before we do this? Anything you don't like?”

He glanced away again, his fidgeting paused as he was thinking, before looking back up with a smile. “Nothing I can think of, but, uh, I'll let you know?”

Desmond nodded. “How about the opposite; is there anything you like that I can do for you?”

That he didn't have to think about, judging by the way his face turned red at the thought of it. He avoided Desmond's gaze before giving a shy smirk and leaning in to whisper. “I... I like it rough, I like it hard,” he pressed a kiss to his neck, “I like it to _hurt..._ ” 

The way he said it made Desmond shiver. He could do that. 

Truth be told, he wasn't much of a sadist, but there was something enticing about the way Clay begged him for more. 

Pull his hair, slap him, choke him, bite him, harder _harder **harder.**_

Clay fell asleep in his arms that night still shaking. 

He wasn't one to kick someone out of bed the morning after, but especially not this time. 

He hadn't been able to see it in the darkness, but with daylight creeping into the room, he saw the kinds of marks he'd left on Clay. Scratches down his back, hickeys on his neck, bruises on his hips from being grabbed too hard. It... honestly made him feel kind of bad. He really needed to talk to Clay about this. 

That talk didn't happen until they were both up and moving, when it was nearly noon. In the same breath Clay mentioned that he ached all over, and yet he was completely okay with it. 

“Was that...? I mean, it wasn't too much, was it?” Desmond asked rather shyly, unable to hide the concern in his voice. 

Clay looked almost surprised by his question, like he hadn't even considered it. Idly his hands found the bruises left on him, smiling when he saw them. “Not at all. Honestly... next time—if there is a next time—I want you to go harder. I don't want to be able to _walk_ afterwards.”

That had left Desmond in stunned silence, gaping at him and only able to offer a weak “...okay,” after a few awkward seconds. 

Clay was dressed and out the door before he knew it. By the time Desmond managed to will away his worry (and his hard-on) and crawl out of bed, Clay was finished organizing his DVDs. 

There had been a next time, and a time after that. They were usually spontaneous, once Clay learned Desmond's schedule, so he could stop by right before he got off work. Even if he had been chatting up some other random flirt, it all died when he saw Clay. 

It was around when they started scheduling actual dates in the daytime that the question of what exactly they were finally came up. 

“Someone at work asked if I was seeing my 'boyfriend' tonight,” Desmond mentioned, glancing idly around the restaurant they found themselves in. It was kinda cheap, but frankly so were they, and they weren't particularly fond of big romantic gestures, either. Cheap was fine for them. 

“And what did you tell them?”

“I, uh... I said yes before I could even think about it,” he admitted. 

The knowing playful grin Clay gave him made his heart skip. “Well, I guess that settles it then, huh?”

That day ended up becoming their anniversary. 

\---

That had been over a year ago. In the time since then, the two of them had moved in together. Clay merged their DVD collections on the first day. 

He'd learned a lot of little details about Clay since then. The strenuous and confusing work he did for his dad's company—that Desmond still didn't fully understand—seemed to be complimented by the myriad of disorders he had. His perfectionism, his affinity for organizing, the way he got hyperfocused on a single project that lead to it getting done more efficienty than it otherwise could've been. In a way, it let him thrive. 

The only place he suffered was in his social skills. Not just in his communicating, but the way he responded to events. Desmond had grown used to the way Clay never made eye contact, and learned that him perking up when being spoken to meant he was listening. It was just... different, not bad or worse. And he was happy to make accommodations for him. 

His insomnia and Desmond's hours ended up working together really well, too; Clay was always up waiting for him by the time he got home. That was something he didn't know he wanted, but was so glad to have. 

It all seemed to be going too well. Perfectly, really. 

...

Then he'd met Alex. 

\---

He'd learned to reject the advances of flirty drunks at work, now. And found that he didn't really miss it, anymore. A mention of him being taken usually warded them off, and if not that then the light threat of kicking them out usually did it. 

He hadn't had to invoke that threat very often, and he'd almost forgotten that he had the ability to do so, until Alex showed up. 

He didn't look like he belonged here, to put it nicely. The way he dressed and carried himself made him look like he belonged at a metal concert or something. He hadn't made a move on Desmond until he'd had a drink or two (only that soon because he had asked for the hard shit). 

“Thanks, but... I'm, uh, I'm already seeing someone,” he'd tried to dissuade him. Alex scoffed. 

“And?”

“...What?”

“So what if you're seeing someone? They ain't your keeper,” he rose from his seat and leaned over the bar, not to make a move, just to glare at and maybe intimidate him. 

He'd be lying if he said it didn't work a little. It was mostly his eyes (his really, really gorgeous eyes, such a pale blue they almost looked white), there was something fierce behind them, but not cruel. 

But he had to stand his ground. “Look, buddy, I already told you, no. The bouncer's a friend and I'll have him kick your ass out if you don't back off.”

That pretty definitively got him to back off, albeit with a roll of his eyes and another scoff. “Suit yourself. Your loss.” And then he'd slunk off, disappearing into the crowd. 

Desmond was resolved to not think of it, seeing it as nothing important or notable, yet somehow for the rest of the night, his eyes always seemed to meet those of that mysterious, drunken pretty boy. 

Clay was still up when he got home, as per usual. He greeted him with a kiss and gently tugged him down to sit on the couch with him, already working at helping him out of his work clothes. That was something he'd started doing of his own accord, and Desmond had come to like it more than he thought he would. It helped, gave him a moment to relax without worrying about mussing up his uniform. 

“Some guy was coming onto me hard tonight,” he announced. 

“Oh yeah?” Clay muttered absently, undoing the buttons of his shirt and running his hands down his chest. 

“Yeah. I mean like, he was _really_ pushy, even when I told him I was seeing somebody. He just wouldn't back off...”

That made him pause, listening more carefully. “And?”

“That's what he said—'and?' Like it was a non sequitur, like it didn't matter. He just kept looking at me...” _with those eyes,_ he wanted to add, but thought better of it. 

Clay clicked his tongue in thought, before concluding, “So why didn't you go for it?”

Now Desmond was looking at him, stunned and confused. “Because... I thought we were a thing? Was I wrong about that?”

“No, but it was clearly something that you wanted to do.”

“Really? I didn't know that's what 'I'm taken, back off,' meant. Guess my definitions are out of date.”

“Des—you haven't shut up about this guy since you got home. I mean, how many times have you been hit on at work? Like, once a night, if not more? What makes this guy so different? Something about him got to you.” 

He really couldn't believe what he was hearing—what did he know? He hadn't been there, he just... 

...He knew Desmond better than he knew himself, apparently. The only conclusion one could draw was that... he wasn't wrong. 

Desmond let his head fall into his hands. “...I'm sorry,” he sighed. 

Of all things, Clay laughed, “For what? Look, if you want my blessing, I'm happy to give it.”

“For me fucking other people when we're supposed to be dating?”

“I mean, not that, just this guy. He's gotten under your skin. Maybe just fuck him once to see what he's all about.”

“...Why are you okay with all this?”

“Because...” Clay gently pushed him down, crawling into his lap and kissing him, every move of his so incredibly gentle and full of love. “I love you, and I like seeing you happy.”

That actually made him blush. He was a grown-ass man blushing like he was fucking fourteen again. Even more concerning was the sense of giddiness growing inside him. 

Clay was right. As always. 

\---

Having the go-ahead was apparently what he'd needed, as from then on he was always on the look-out for the same tantalizing flirt to show up again. And Clay had been weirdly supportive, asking him every single night if he'd run into their mysterious stranger yet. 

And he had, eventually, roughly a week after their first encounter. He tried his hardest not to look _too_ excited, but then that same icy gaze was on him and he couldn't hide it. 

“Someone missed me,” he teased as he approached, leaning bodily on the bar like a jackass. 

“O-oh,” fuck, be cool, “hi again, you. Didn't recognize you at first. Surprised you'd remember me.” Shit, he was rambling. “Um, what can I get you?”

He laughed, a deep, rough growl in his throat that Desmond could _feel_ more so than hear. “Sure, I'll play along,” he smirked and it made Desmond's knees weak, “Vodka. Something nice.”

God, that was pretentious. Why did he like this guy, again?

The brief eye contact and their hands touching as he handed over his drink answered that question pretty quickly. 

“Don't suppose you've reconsidered my offer?” 

There it was. Desmond swallowed. “I, uh... I get off in a couple hours...”

“So will I, if it goes well tonight.” Christ, that was such a bad line—why did it sound so good coming from him? “I'll wait up for you.” 

At some point his hand had found Desmond's, giving a quick squeeze before he slunk off yet again. Leaving Desmond standing there, frozen, half-hard, and burning red. The point where they had been touching was left with a slight tingle that made him shiver when he finally moved away. 

During a lull in his shift, he'd managed to text Clay: 

“ **Found him. Doing it tonight.** ”

He didn't get to check again until an hour later, when he'd seen the reply: 

“ **go get u sum, babe <3 ily**”

Shit. This was happening, this was really definitely still happening, probably. He could back out... but he also couldn't; some stupid part of his pride never allowed him to back out of anything. He didn't even know why he was so nervous—he hadn't been this nervous with Clay, or any of the other people he'd taken home before he'd met him. 

Alex really had gotten under his skin. 

“Where we doing this?” Alex had blurted out before Desmond was comfortably by his side. The sheer volume of it earned him a few glances from strangers, yet he didn't seem to care. 

“I dunno—sounds like you wanna do it in the street,” he shot back, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “My boyfriend's still at home, so...”

“My place it is, then,” then he was waving down a cab, no further questions asked. 

As they waited, Desmond pulled out his phone and texted Clay one more time. 

“ **Leaving now. Probably won't be home tonight, I'll see you tomorrow. Love you.** ”

He couldn't get a good look at it, since Alex refused to turn on a goddamn light, but Desmond assumed his place was nice. It probably was; he lived on practically the other side of town, and the apartment complex looked ritzy on the outside. 

He'd have to ask Alex what he did for a living, sometime. Not now, Alex wasn't taking any questions, not while he was ripping Desmond's clothes off and biting his neck hard enough to leave bruises. 

Truth be told, he wasn't much of a masochist, but there was something enticing about the way Alex made him beg for more. 

Pull his hair, bite him, mark him, fuck him harder, please _please **please.**_

The night had left him exhausted and sore, yet weirdly fulfilled. Like this was what he needed. 

“How's your boyfriend feel about this?” Alex asked him snidely the next morning, as Desmond was getting dressed. 

“Good morning to you too,” he scoffed, “Honestly? It was his idea. I wouldn't have done it had he not encouraged me.”

“Told you it didn't matter,” he stated, smugly.

Desmond gave him a look, “No, I think it still does. I'm still with him, this was just a one-time thing, now that I've gotten it out of my system.” He tried to shrug it off, like it was casual, trying to beat Alex at his own game. It didn't work, judging by the condescending chuckle and the _smirk_ in his voice. 

“Keep telling yourself that...”

He tried to ignore it. This was one fling he didn't mind bailing on the morning after. 

\---

It was honestly kind of adorable the way Clay excitedly ran to him when he returned home. No doubt he would have literally jumped into Desmond's arms had he thought the man could take it. 

“How'd it go with your shiny new friend last night?” he teased. 

He was smiling in spite of himself. “Good. Better than good.”

“I can tell,” Clay reached out to gently caress the bruise on his neck, already a sickly purple and yellow. 

The soft touch made him shiver. “Is this how you feel every time we fuck? 'Cause it's... pretty good.” 

Clay hummed in response, “I'm almost jealous. What else did he leave you with?” 

_Emotions,_ he found himself thinking. 

He didn't respond, gnawing on his lip in the spot where his scar was, the tough tissue hard underneath in his teeth. 

“Des... talk to me.” 

“I...” he sighed, “Okay, so... it was good. I liked it. I thought I'd get it out of my system—there was this... curiosity, this need, and... I thought those feelings would be gone by now. I did what I needed to, I gave him what he wanted... so why can't I stop thinking about it? About him?”

He listened carefully, eyes examining Desmond's face as he spoke. 

“Clay... you know I love you, right?”

That got a reaction, a smile and slight chuckle. “I know, I don't doubt it,” another gentle kiss, “I love you too. I just... I want to help, but I don't want to push you or make you feel... worse.”

“If you've got a solution, I'm ready to hear it.” It didn't feel... _wrong,_ was the weird part. But part of him was telling him that it should. 

Clay pulled back, his hands fidgeting again, this time spreading out his fingers and clenching them back against his palm, again and again. “So, okay...” he began, “Why don't you hang out with this guy more—what's his name? Alex?” A nod. “Get to know him, not just fuck him, maybe that's why you're feeling this way. You're not the type to bang 'em and hang 'em, Des, I know that about you. Try to figure out how you feel about him, and why's he's fixated on you, if you can. I think that'll help.”

Desmond nodded as he listened. That made sense in a weird way. He found himself grinning. “And I have your permission to do it?”

Clay snorted. “If you need it, then yes.”

\---

After their first night together, Desmond had been considering throwing away Alex's number. In hindsight, he was glad he didn't. 

It wasn't as easy as just ringing him up, though. Whatever Alex's job was, it kept him busy most days. The few times he tried calling, it either went straight to voicemail or rung until it was hung up. So he texted. 

That got him a response, though a rather cold one. Alex told him pretty definitively: these are my days off, show up or don't. Normally he'd have taken that as a pretty clear indicator that Alex didn't want him around, and he'd have taken that advice were he not so stubborn. 

He chanced showing up one of those days, a little after noon. After he knocked, he heard the sound of a crash from inside the apartment, followed by someone swearing and stomping to the door. 

“What?!” a woman answered, swinging the door open quickly, scaring the hell out of him. 

“O-oh, hi, um...” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “Is this... Alex's place?”

That made her calm, but still irritated. “Yeah. C'mon in.”

She left the door open for him and he walked in cautiously. The clatter he'd heard earlier was evidently from her knocking a box over, now bent down and picking up a lot of the crap that had spilled out. 

He was about to speak again, only to be immediately drowned out by her yelling across the apartment; “ _ **Alex!** You got a visitor!_” Vaguely Desmond could hear more swearing from elsewhere. She turned to him with a grin. “He's in the shower, he'll be out in a bit. So... who're you?”

“I... was gonna ask you the same thing,” he admits, “I, um... I'm Desmond, I'm just... a friend, I guess.”

She nodded. “I'm Dana, I'm his sister. Sorry about all that, I just didn't know he was expecting anyone today.” 

That explained a lot. The swearing, the harsh demeanor, the same striking blue eyes just barely visible from under the blunt fringe of her bangs—yeah, he could see the resemblance. 

She returned to packing up her stuff. “I'll be out of your hair in a bit. I just moved here a couple months ago—before I got my own place, I was crashing with Alex. I just dropped by to pick up some of the shit I left behind.” 

Desmond was barely listening, too entranced by the surroundings that he'd just taken notice of. His initial instinct about Alex had been right; his place was really fucking nice. High ceilings, white walls, what looked like really expensive furniture—even the clutter, what little of it there was, was disorganized in a very organized way. 

It... was really posh, for a guy who ran around in dirty jeans and a hoodie most days. What the fuck did this guy do for a living?

As though on cue, Alex emerged from the connected room. It was kind of weird, seeing him dressed down—the last few times he'd seen him he was dressed in the exact same thing. Now he wore only a t-shirt and sweats, the looseness of his clothes showing more of his body than he was used to seeing. He was tall (deliciously tall), all long scrawny limbs (especially those fingers, god he remembered how deep they'd gotten in him last time), and his hair, though damp, was naturally wavy (which was really, really cute). 

“You done yet?” he asked, amusement hiding behind his irritated tone. Shit. He'd been staring. 

“Sorry, I...” he didn't have a response. “Sorry.”

The worst part was that Dana had seen it all, smiling coyly at them both. “Well, I'll leave you two to it,” she lifted the box of her stuff and made for the door, calling to Alex over her shoulder as she went, “Have fun!”

“Fuck off,” Alex retorted, slamming the door behind her as she snickered at him. His sights turned back to Desmond. “You gonna stand there all day or do you wanna sit down?”

“Think I'll stand, honestly,” he crossed his arms uncomfortably. All his shit looked too nice to make use of, like a furniture showroom that nobody actually lived in. Alex shrugged and took a seat himself, making the feeling even more awkward. “What is it you do, again?”

“Geneticist,” he stated plainly, as though that was an everyday, boring thing to be. 

Desmond gaped at him. “You're kidding.”

“Nope,” Alex gestured to the wall behind him, encouraging him to take a look. 

He took a step closer. It was mostly framed photos, of Alex, of Dana, of randos he didn't know, but in the middle of it all was, sure enough, a degree. For Alexander Mercer. 

“Dr. Mercer...” he mused, mostly to himself, as though trying it on. 

Alex snorted, “Don't sound too impressed. It's not that big a deal.”

_It was an incredibly big deal._ Desmond didn't know what to say, to him, to all of this. Yet he found himself smiling when he looked back at Alex. “I fucked someone with a doctorate.”

That made Alex actually laugh—a full-bodied, audible laugh, instead of the half-hearted snickers in between snide remarks or the slight smiles he hid behind his hands. It was loud, it was genuine, it was human. 

And it was wonderful. It drew from Desmond that same warmth he felt around Clay, that feeling of elation, affection, fondness, and...

His smile fell as what he was feeling finally dawned on him. _...Oh._

_Oh, shit._

Not that it was a bad feeling, but one he felt conflicted about. He was already with somebody, he shouldn't be feeling this way about someone else. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair to Clay. 

Those were the thoughts his mind conjured up, although not necessarily what he was feeling. It was this weird disconnect, telling him to feel more guilty than he actually felt. 

He'd hung around Alex the rest of the day, partly out of a desire to actually get to know him (once they'd gotten into the swing of things, they had a pretty good rapport), and partly out of... well, he was trying avoid his thoughts and feelings as long as he could. He knew that as soon as he left, he'd have to tell Clay what he was feeling, there was no other option... but that didn't mean he couldn't put it off just a little longer. 

Alex fucking him into the mattress had been a good distraction. There was a reason he'd only propositioned it after the sun went down, so that hopefully it'd end with them both asleep and he could put off his confrontation with Clay that much longer. 

Alex wasn't having it, though, whether because he knew what Desmond was doing or he'd just overstayed his welcome. Having been all but kicked out made the encroaching sense of dread that much worse. Now a new worry arose: if he'd left on a sour note with Alex, he might not have anyone to turn to should it not work out with... 

Fuck, Clay. 

He wasn't equipped for it, but he needed to run. 

He hadn't done it in years, but it always helped when he needed to clear his head, and he needed that bad now. 

He jogged a ways down the street, checking every alleyway until he found one that had an exterior stairway leading up to the roofs. He took the steps two at a time, already feeling hot and a little too out of breath. Good. 

Once on the roof, he glanced over the edge a bit too quickly, nearly toppling in the process. It gave him vertigo, but in a good way. The building he was on was probably another apartment complex, maybe twenty floors? He stepped to the farthest edge, preparing for a running start to try and leap to the roof of the next building. 

Then he was off, the glide of feeling weightless returning and giving him that extra boost, until he hit the other building. He remembered to attempt to roll to ease the landing, yet still ended up leaning his weight on his shoulder when he touched down. 

Not a great start. But good. The ache, the air, the exhilaration. He needed to keep going. He _wanted_ to keep going.

The second leap was better, cleaner, still with a rough landing. The third even better; he landed on his feet that time. The impact rattled him to his core in a way that he was sure would ache tomorrow. 

The next building staring him down, though, was a slightly different enclave. The roof's rim protruded and rose slightly above the others. He wouldn't make the jump unless he felt like making the landing face first. 

He'd make it if he grabbed the ledge, though. Already he was clenching and unclenching his fists, stretching his fingers and cracking his knuckles. It was a bad idea, but so was everything else he'd done tonight. 

Fuck it. 

He ran for it, wind in his face, confidence in his chest, pushing off the ground at full force. 

His phone buzzing in his pocket nearly made him miss. 

His hands skidded painfully along the surface as he grasped desperately, even digging his nails in as they, too, scraped along. His body had hit the wall on landing, the impact hard, knocking the wind out of him and leaving his entire front aching. His entire body felt like dead weight now, making pulling himself up all the more difficult. He braced his feet against the surface and pushed, easing the strain somewhat. His arms and legs were shaking, he was panting and grunting from the effort, yet the relief was worth it as he flung himself bodily over the ledge. 

He was shaking all over, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding away in his chest. He felt so... alive. The solidity of the ground underneath him made the contrast all the clearer. 

His vision was blurring at the edges, gradually becoming clearer. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and the pain setting in. It made him smile. 

He checked his hands; his palms were scraped up and bleeding, skin ripping off his fingers in patches and exposing the raw flesh underneath. His nails were chipped, cracking, and rough at the edges. Worse yet, the one on his left ring finger had split right down the middle, the beginnings of blood welling up in the crack. That was gonna hurt like hell until it grew out. 

The blistering cold air on his wounds made them sting and chilled the sweat on his face. The breeze felt good, though, so good. 

He allowed himself to take in the image of the sky, completely black, with almost no stars visible. Damn light pollution. It was still nice; when he craned his head back he could see the way the sky curved as it fell into the distance. 

His phone buzzed again. 

Right. That was what made him stop. 

Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he finally checked it phone. It was late. And it was Clay. 

“ **where r u?** ”

Shit. Clay. 

Now he had to think about this, about what he was going to do next. He dropped his phone to his chest and laid there, just... thinking. Having imaginary conversations in his head. Going over as many possible outcomes as he could. Most of them were bad, like he didn't want to allow himself to imagine that it could turn out positively. How could it? 

Occasionally he paused to look at his phone again, reread the text from Clay, watched as the time ticked by. Sent five minutes ago. Seven minutes ago. Ten. 

He didn't even open his messages until it hit twelve minutes ago. Didn't reply until sixteen. 

“ **On my way home.** ” Seventeen. 

\---

The hardest part of getting home was just getting off the goddamn rooftops so he could hit the ground and call a cab. That ate up another twenty minutes. Unfortunately it also occupied enough of his mind that he wasn't even thinking about what was going to happen, just about getting the fuck down. 

His mind was blank on the ride back. Blank as he ascended the stairs. Blank as he entered the apartment. 

Clay was still up. Of course. Waiting in the living room for him, illuminated only by a single lamp. Though he didn't look panicked, save for the wide eyes, his body language signified that he was nervous. He was clutching one of the sofa pillows to his chest. 

Desmond found himself glancing around the room. It was quiet. Nothing was on. “What are you doing?”

Clay wasn't startled to hear him, but didn't look at him either. “Talking to myself. I was gonna watch TV but then I forgot to.” He smiled. “Plus, I was worried. I wanted to see you come home.”

He tried to smile back, but it didn't last. He sat across from Clay, greeting him with a gentle kiss to the head and a muttered apology. Clay leaned into his touch, ending up curled to his side with his head tucked under Desmond's chin. 

“Something's wrong,” he guessed. Desmond confirmed with a slight grunt. Clay sat back and looked at him, reached out to grab his hand and hold it. That was when he noticed the state of him; his hand was covered in rough patches, skin missing from wounds that had mostly stopped bleeding. His jeans were dirty and torn in odd places. His shirt was damp and he still smelled of sweat. “Jesus, did you get in a fight on the way home?”

That made him laugh. “No, just... went running. Needed to, it cleared my head, I was thinking about...” His smile fell. Shit. 

“What happened, Des?” Clay was watching him expectantly.

He stared down at the floor, vaguely hoping in some miserable part of him that Clay would stop asking and just leave. There was a heaviness in his gut, a telltale warning that something between them was going to change tonight. 

“Please, I just want to help.”

Desmond pulled away from him to hang his head in his hands. No more avoiding it, no more running away from his problems, this was staring him dead-on like the barrel of a gun, and he had to take the shot. 

“I...” he tried to begin. For all his time thinking about this, he hadn't put any thought into exactly _how_ to put it. There had to be some way to ease into this conversation, rather than just stumbling into it carelessly. 

They sat there for longer than necessary, Clay waiting patiently as Desmond tried to find his words. Nothing came to him. 

“I...” he began again, barely present in his own body as he forced out the words. “I think I love Alex.”

A pause. He held his breath. 

“Oh,” Clay didn't sound mad, just... surprised? “...Okay.”

“No, but—” he was already ready with defenses, letting them tumble out without structure and without pause, “I... I still love you, too. Just... something came up in me, something that made me look at Alex the same way I look at you. I don't... I don't know what happened. Nothing changed, it's just... it's like he's there too now. I don't know... I don't even know if it's love or what, just...” his voice cracked. Tears were forming in his eyes, his face was hot and his throat hurt. He had to stop before he continued. 

Clay's concern only grew when he saw him crying, resting a hand on his shoulder and fisting it in his shirt. Not forceful, just wanting. There was still no anger. 

“I've been thinking about this all day...” he admitted, tears be damned, “When I had this realization, that I love him, I didn't... _want_ to come home, because I was scared... I don't want to lose you, Clay. If something happened...” he gasped, “I can't... I can't lose you, Clay, but I couldn't hide this.” Anything else he had to say died in his throat with a sob. 

Clay didn't say anything, yet there was emotion in his expression. He pulled Desmond up from his slouch, hugging him tightly and staying there. 

Something in him broke. This felt like the end. He needed to savor this moment, something in him was sure that, after this, everything was going to change. 

Clay was leaving him. That's what it meant, he was sure of it. 

He wasn't ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy we back bitches. minor warning for some pan- and poly-phobia.
> 
> this chapter is full of my headcanons and its queer as hell and i love it

At some point, he'd fallen asleep. He was far too disoriented when he woke up in a different room and in different clothes, with his hands cleaned and bandaged. He ached all over and his eyes still burned. 

But he was alone. That was the worst part: he didn't know if he was alone for good or not. He didn't know where they stood. He didn't know anything anymore. It was terrifying, doubly so when he was left alone with his thoughts. He couldn't reign them in, his mind jumping immediately to the worst scenarios he could think of, all of them concluding with “I fucked up and I'm going to die alone.”

There was movement in the apartment. Clay was still here.

He tried to fake being asleep when he heard him approaching. 

“Des. I know you're awake.” 

_Damn._

When he opened his eyes, Clay was standing over him and holding out a bottle of water. “You're probably dehydrated. Drink.”

_Right again, as always._

As he drank, Clay sat next to him, seemingly waiting. 

“How're you feeling?”

“...Tired.” 

He nodded. Then, “We should probably talk about last night.”

“...I don't want to,” he admitted. 

“Too bad,” Clay smirked at him, but it fell quickly, “Can you tell me what happened yesterday that made you so upset? I heard you, but I want to have a clearer picture. Did something happen with Alex?”

Shit. Here it comes. Desmond sighed as he set the bottle to the side, staring down at his hands as he tried to speak. “I just... I spent the day with him, longer than I meant to. Saw his home, met his sister, saw him dressed down and being himself... that was when I knew that I...” he trailed off. He didn't want to say it. 

“You can say that you love him, it's okay.” 

“But I... I don't know if I do,” he tried to deflect. 

“You do. I can tell,” Clay teased, but at the same time reached out to take his hand. 

“So... why aren't you mad?” he couldn't help but ask. Clay laughed again. 

“I don't know, I guess... I saw it coming. And hey—this isn't a bad thing, you know that?” 

“I don't see how it isn't. I... I fucked him, I fell in love with him, when we're supposed to be together.”

“Des, I told you I was fine with that. I _encouraged_ you to do it, did you forget that?”

He had, actually. He looked at him, disbelieving. “...You really did see this coming. How?”

A shrug. “Intuition? I don't know, I just... I've figured you out, Des. I can't make sense of anyone else, but I get you,” he said with a shy smile.

In the pause that followed, Clay kissed him, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. He took it, gladly, resting his head on Clay's chest and just. Resting. He was exhausted. But there was still a pressing issue in the back of his mind that he needed to address. 

“...So, what now?”

He hummed a little. “What do you mean?”

Desmond pulled himself upright. “I mean... do you want to break up?”

He snorted, “Do you?”

“No...”

“Then why should we? You said you still loved me.”

“And... and Alex, too.”

“And...?” he gestured to Desmond to finish the thought. He just stared. 

“I don't... I don't follow.”

Clay laughed, exasperated, “If you love both of us, you can love both of us. You can _be_ with both of us.”

“Wh... at the same time?”

“Yes! That's what I've been trying to get you to see this entire time. That's an option, you should know that.”

That earned him an incredulous look. “How would I have known that?”

“Des, for Christ's sake—you know Becca! Becca's got _two_ girlfriends!”

“They're your friends Clay—I don't even know Rebecca that well, I've only met her and Lucy once.” A pause. “...Really, two girlfriends?”

“Yeah, that's a thing you can do. _You_ can do it too, it's not illegal.”

“I thought polygamy _was_ illegal.”

Clay sighed. “First: in some places, yeah. Second: it's not polygamy, it's polyamory. We don't have to get married—unless you want to,” he teased, “We're all consenting adults, nobody can come after you for dating two people at once. Or three, or however many.”

He shrugged to concede the point. “Then...” he chewed his lip in thought, “How does it work?”

“However the fuck you want it to,” Clay threw his arms up, “You wanna just be fucking Alex on the side? Fine. You wanna be dating him and me? Cool. You want him to move in with us? No prob. No rules, Des. You can do exactly as much as you want to.” 

His gaze was intense as he spoke. The whole thing was... incredibly freeing, but also confusing. He didn't know what to make of it. Instead he offered, “I'll, uh... I'll talk to Alex about it and report back to you.” 

Clay offered a curt “good,” and moved to leave, before Desmond grabbed his hand. “Yeah?”

“I just need to know, you're, uh... you're not mad at me, right?”

That made him laugh, “About this? No. I'm a little mad you kept me up worrying all night, but that's all.”

He winced at that. “Right. Sorry about that, I was just...”

A kiss was pressed to his head, “It's fine. Don't worry about it.” Another kiss, this one turning into a second hug and ending with “I love you, Des. I want you to be happy,” muttered into his shoulder. 

Desmond smiled. “I am. I love you too.”

\---

“Thanks for meeting me, Becs,” Desmond greeted as he took a seat opposite her, “And uh, sorry for interrupting your lunch break.”

“Hey, no problem. Glad to help. Glad to get to know Clay's bae a little better, too,” she teased, then took a bite of her salad. “Whatcha wanna know?”

“Um... everything? So, okay, I guess Clay told you what's been going on?”

“That you're thinking of joining the polyam party?” 

“Yeah, that. I guess, like... how'd you even get started with all this in the first place?”

“Hmm...” she clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Well, I was dating Lucy first. When we first met, she made it clear that she was asexual. And that's fine, no problem, I wasn't with her for sex. But... I mean, I have a higher sex drive than her, and I wasn't going to force her into something she didn't want. That was the biggest strain in our relationship, but it was also one of the only ones. We were great, we loved each other, we were happy being together, but... 

“She was actually the one who suggested it, that I sleep around. We talked about it a bit more before I did it, to make sure she was okay with it, and knowing that having a random fling didn't mean I'd left her or anything. And... yeah, it was great. I got my fill with all kinds of people, no problem.

“But then... I kinda fell for one of the girls I'd been seeing.” _Sounds familiar._ “It... I don't know how it happened, it just kind of did. She was funny, cool, smart, hot... great in bed... In the back of my head, I secretly wished I could be with them both. Like, when you hear about people in poly relationships, it makes you think of, like, a bunch of hippies living off the grid in a big pagan commune or something.” 

“God, that takes me back...” he joked. It got him an odd look, “Um, I kinda grew up in a place like that. Not pagan, but a commune of weirdos living off the grid in the middle of the woods, seriously.”

“No shit,” she laughed, “Small world. But yeah, it was one of those things where... you know it's an option, but you don't realize it's an option _you_ can take until it's been pointed out to you, y'know?” He nodded. That also sounded familiar. “And... it just took a lot of talking between all three of us to figure something out. I didn't make up my mind to go through with it for a month or so.

“And here we are, like, six months later. Happy.”

That struck him. “...Really, you're all happy together?”

Rebecca nodded, smiling fondly at the thought of them all. “Yeah. I've... never been this happy with anyone I've been dating. It never occurred to me how much... how much _love_ I've got in me, and I finally have people to share that with.” 

God, that was... it rang true in a way he hadn't been prepared for. It sounded like a dream, like exactly what he needed to hear, and he didn't even know it. 

“...How do you share it evenly, though?”

“You gotta talk to everyone in the relationship and make sure you're all on the same page. That helps you avoid a lot of the problems that come up; you talk about it and discuss your worries before they can become problems, y'know?

“But, more broadly... I guess dividing it “evenly” doesn't come up because... we all know that nobody's playing favorites. Spending more time with one over the other doesn't mean you prefer them. What if one person doesn't feel like hanging? Does that mean you suddenly love them less? No; not anymore than it would in a monogamous relationship.”

“What about something like... cheating? Is that even possible?”

“Of course it is!” She gestured with her fork as she spoke, an errant piece of lettuce going flying as she did so. “That's the thing, we're all consenting to be in this relationship, with the understanding that the three of us being together is the exact same as any monogamous couple. It would still be cheating if one of us started seeing someone else without discussing it with the others first. But if we all sat down, the four of us in that case, and talked about it, and welcomed someone else into our polycule, then no, that wouldn't be cheating.” 

He found himself grinning at her terminology. “'Polycule,' is that what you call it?”

“Well, I call it a throuple, because there's three of us. That's easier. I got friends who are in a four-way thing, and they call it a polycule, so,” she shrugged, taking another bite. 

He nodded, and found his mind wandering as she caught up on her eating. “This isn't related to that, but; are you gay?”

She hummed in response. “Bi, actually. Lucy's ace, and my other girl's bi, too.”

“Huh. So that's the other thing that goes into it: sexuality?”

“Well, yeah. About as much as any other relationship. I know it looks like we're a bunch of lesbians from the outside, and I guess to a degree we kinda are, but that doesn't erase anything else that any of us are.” Another pause, another bite. “I know Clay's gay, and you're...?”

“Pan. I like everybody.”

“Right on,” she held out her fist, he bumped it gladly. “Anything else you wanna know? My break's almost up.”

“Um, no, that's all I can think of.” He moved to scoot out of the booth before she stopped him. 

“And hey, I know of a queer support group-type thing if you ever wanna know more. That's where I met those other polyam folks—and where I met both my girls, actually.” She smiled at the thought. “But if you ever wanna talk again, Clay's got my number.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he found himself smiling, and he couldn't stop. “Thanks again for talking, Becs.”

“No problem, Desmond,” she waved him off with a smile. Before he could get far, he heard her call back to him, “Go get you some!” 

At least now he knew where Clay picked that up from. 

\---

He didn't see Alex for the nearly three weeks he mulled it over. He still hadn't made his decision by the time they met up again. 

It was an unusually somber meeting, but that didn't stop Alex from being himself when he answered the door. 

“Surprised you kept away for so long. Didn't you miss me?”

“Yeah... I did, actually.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it drew out a genuine answer from Desmond. That had actually surprised Alex, whose demeanor changed as well. After that, he was silent as he welcomed him in. They sat at opposite ends of Alex's (really, stupidly nice _leather_ ) sofa. 

“What's up?” 

“Alex... do you know what I've been thinking about, in the time since we've been apart?”

If he did, he didn't say, just listened. 

“I think...” Desmond continued, “I think I love you.” In his peripheral, Alex perked up at hearing that. Surprised, but in a good way. “But... I love Clay too, still. I never stopped. But, you're there too, now. I just... I really need to know, how do you feel about all this? About us?” 

The unspoken question of _do you love me_ hung in the air, but Desmond couldn't bring himself to say it. Alex wouldn't answer it directly, anyway, he'd come to learn. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably, folding his arms and crossing his legs, retreating somewhat into himself. His gaze landed elsewhere, he was practically facing the other way when he spoke. _What did that remind him of._

“Look... there was more than one reason why I approached you, that night we first met. It wasn't just to fuck you. It was also because I was drunk, but...” he sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair as he tried to force out his words. “Look, I can't... say the same things that you said. But... the feeling isn't completely unreciprocated. I wouldn't be opposed to it, is all I'm saying.”

It was such a roundabout, stupid way of saying it, but he had said it. 

Desmond reached out to him, drawing Alex's attention back to him. “Do you really mean it?”

Alex nodded, turning away before they could make eye contact fully, because holy shit, he was blushing, bright pink against pale skin and it was _adorable._

Desmond flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck and practically climbing into his lap. He could feel, more so than hear, Alex's soft laughter, felt one arm wrapping around him in response. Alex kissed him, completely unprompted, and it was wonderful. 

Desmond could have stayed there forever, half on top of Alex, just kissing him. Deeply, yet sweetly, unlike the frantic, hungry kisses they shared when they fucked. These were different, like the ones shared between him and Clay. Ones full of love. 

“But... look,” he broke away, trying to ignore the slight shiver that went through him as Alex ran his hands down his back, “I'm still dating Clay, you know that? It's just... I'd like you to be part of it too.”

Alex nodded. “I got it: we're dating you, but not each other. I think I know how this works.” 

That surprised him. “Have you... done this before?”

“Nah, but my sister... she has. She explained it to me when she started dating this chick a while back.” 

He laughed a little, disbelieving, “How does everyone else know how this works except for me? Why haven't I heard about this until recently? I had to be taught by two different people to learn about it.” 

“Guess you just haven't been paying attention.” That earned him a slight shove. “But I accept, for what it's worth. Even if I can't... say _that,_ but... I-I do.” 

“We'll have to work on that, then. I'll train you to say it, because I'd love to hear it from you.” His tone was teasing, but there was a bit of truth to it. He was a sap, what could he say? 

Alex nodded, seeming to ponder it for a moment. “...I'll try, then. For you.” 

“Aww,” he let slip before he could stop himself. That earned him a very flustered expression and a pinch for his efforts. “Ow-! Jesus, what are you, twelve?”

“If I am, then you're going to jail.” There he was, the same snarky Alex he'd fallen for. 

Fuck, he really did love the guy. The same warmth and affinity he had for Clay was coming up here, too, especially now that he let himself feel it. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice Alex unzipping his jacket for him, only realizing it when a hand slid up his shirt. 

“You wanna... make this official, since we're a thing now?”

Desmond pulled him down into a kiss. That was a yes. 

\---

So. He had two boyfriends now. That was something. 

Alex had social problems, too, but not in the same way as Clay. Alex's weren't developmental, they were learned. The few times he was able to drag emotions out of him, he'd learned about Alex's upbringing, and it was... rough, to say the least. The fact that he was as well-adjusted as he was (which wasn't by much if Desmond had to be honest) was kind of incredible. Him developing a harsh exterior as a result of that made sense, in context. 

In Desmond's opinion, it was to protect himself from any more pain, but he knew not to voice that thought anymore. Anytime he did, it ended with either Alex shutting down or (gently) throwing something at him to shut him up. 

Got it: don't bring up the past, and don't psychoanalyze him. Easy. 

In the end he'd taken up Rebecca's offer to go to that meeting, to meet other folks in the community—it felt nice to have a place where he could feel safe to discuss these things. Becca had basically become his relationship consultant, and they grew to be closer friends because of it. She'd even suggested the idea of them going on a double (triple?) date; her girls and his boys. Honestly, not a bad idea. 

It had taken him some time to get used to it, although the others seemed to be doing fine. Made sense; they still only had a single relationship to balance. And yet, after a while... it didn't seem that weird anymore. He'd even begun referring to them collectively as his boyfriends, plural. Although, maybe he was getting a little too comfortable—saying he had a boyfriend didn't draw weird looks anymore, but adding that 's' at the end apparently did. 

It had been fine when it was around his coworkers, who gave him an odd look before shrugging and moving on. Wasn't any of their business, so they didn't care. That was ideal. 

It was less ideal when explaining it to people he personally knew. 

Shaun was both the best and worst place to start. 

Shaun was his ex, one of the first guys he ever dated after coming out. It was funny in hindsight; evidently he had a type, and his type was snarky, sarcastic guys who made him laugh while keeping him on his toes. Hence why he took an interest in both Alex and Clay, he supposed. 

They didn't keep up as much as he would've liked (he liked to stay friendly with all of his exes, and his and Shaun's parting had been amiable), so meeting up again for coffee was a nice way to catch up and fill him in on his current situation. 

Shaun had choked on his drink when he told him the first time. 

“You wanna run that by me again?”

“Boyfriends. Two of them,” Desmond shrugged, trying to keep it casual. He didn't think it was odd anymore, and he thought he'd gotten used to having these conversations. Apparently not, judging by the uneasy feeling in his gut. 

“At the same time?” He nodded. “Do they... know about each other?” Another nod. “And they're okay with it?”

“Yeah. What's the problem?”

Shaun stared at him, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “...Is this just because you want to set up a threesome?” 

“No!”

“But you are sleeping with them both.”

“Y-yeah...”

“And this _isn't_ a sex thing?”

He sighed, “No, Shaun. Not everything that isn't straight is suddenly deviant and perverted.” Well... it was when it came to them individually, but that wasn't the point. Shaun didn't need to know about his sex life. 

“I know that, I just... I don't believe you about the other thing. And if it's not... then it sounds like you're opening yourself up to being cheated on.”

“God, how many times have I heard that before? Literally every single time I explain that I'm pan to someone. “You're just a slut,” “you're gonna get cheated on,” or—oh, my favorite: “ _you're_ gonna cheat on _them._ ” I've heard this shit so many times, I don't need to hear it from you too.”

“It just... doesn't seem like it'll have a happy ending, Des. What if you want to marry one of them? Are you going to marry them both? Or just the one? It feels like picking a favorite child; the other is just going to grow resentful...”

“Alright!” he cut him off, “Look, I can handle the questions, I'm happy to answer those, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you lecture me about shit you don't understand. You don't know what our relationships are like, Shaun.”

“I remember what ours was like,” he shrugged noncommittally. 

“Yeah, remember all those times I cheated on you? Oh wait, you don't? Because it never happened.”

Shaun shook his head. “Y'know, you're right, I don't know what kind of relationship you have with these guys. But just know, if it doesn't work out, I told you so.” 

That was when he'd finally had enough, rising to leave. “I'll remember that, thanks. Enjoy your coffee, dick.”

\---

He'd resolved to stop fucking talking to people about his polyamory after that. He sure as shit wasn't going to tell his dad about this, now. It had been hard enough saying he was “bi,” (because fucking forget explaining pansexuality to anyone over the age of fifty). Then he announced he had a boyfriend and had to deal with that “Are you sure you're not just gay? It's okay if you are,” talk. Again. 

At least his boys understood. Clay was sympathetic (having had a rough relationship with his dad as well, especially when coming out), and Alex didn't give a shit what anyone else thought or said. Desmond envied that about him. 

It really was kind of amazing how well they complimented him and juxtaposed each other. Where Alex hid his displays of affection, Clay did them outright. Where Clay was insecure, Alex was confident. 

Where Alex was a sadist, Clay was a masochist. 

That was when it occurred to him. Although he'd never envisioned it going into this, what Shaun had said was sticking in his head, in more ways than one. 

_Is this just because you want to set up a threesome?_

It had all come together too perfectly, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> becca referring to them as her girls: ❤︎❤︎❤︎  
> des referring to them as his boys: ❤︎❤︎❤︎
> 
> alex is so fucking emotionally constipated and we love him
> 
> i hope my explaining of queerness came off well, for those not in-the-know. i tend to run in queer circles and tend assume that everyone else is on the same page, so forgive me if i'm jumping the gun a little bit  
> and yeah, i know not every polyam relationship ends in a threeway, thats not the point of the relationship. dont come for me
> 
> but yeah, will be one more chapter full of smut and maybe an epilogue. i'm hoping to have it out in a week, but it's longer than any of the other chapters so it might be a while. no promises, but i will get it done


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the "nothing but porn" phase of the fic. 
> 
> slight warning for clay and alex having some gorey dirty talk and fantasies. nothing happens, they just float the idea, but its kinda intense ~~and im love it~~
> 
> my headcanons get weird ~~and cringey~~ towards the end, too. idk why i decided clay's special interest is horror movies, but there you go

It was a crime that Alex and Clay had never formally met, quite frankly. 

They'd met in passing, usually when literally passing Desmond from one set of arms to the other on their date nights. They knew what the other looked like, and even had each other's numbers (at Desmond's insistence), but had never met face-to-face. 

So it was weird having them in the same room all of the sudden. 

Alex was taller, both due to natural height and the way he carried himself: with confidence. And that was even in spite of the way he slumped his shoulders—probably something he picked up from all his nights at the lab, hunching over his work. 

On the other hand, Clay had better posture, yet he tended to curl in on himself when he was nervous, as though trying to hide whatever tics he was no doubt repeating. Probably something he picked up in childhood: being told to stop whatever obnoxious thing he was doing with his hands, except he couldn't, so he learned to hide them instead. 

All while Desmond was just staring at them both, back and forth. Admiring them, noticing the little details in the way they both looked and acted, all of it reminding him of how much he loved them both. 

Fuck, he really, really loved them. 

“Having fun?” Alex nudged when he saw him staring. 

He shook himself awake at his words, “Sorry, I… sorry.” His eyes fell on Clay next, who was still nervously cracking the joints in his knuckles and wrist. Desmond gently took one of his hands away and held it tightly. 

“Would it help if I got us some drinks?” he offered. That earned him a hasty nod from Clay and a noncommittal shrug from Alex (that meant yes). 

Some drinks would loosen them all up, get them talking. 

“Make us a drink, _Mr. Bartender,_ ” Alex jeered. Though his tone was playful, he still had his fists crammed in the pockets of his jacket, and hadn't moved them since he'd arrived. He was nervous too. 

Desmond found himself laughing. “How is it that even on my nights off, I end up serving drinks?”

\---

“So, what brought this on?” Alex nudged him after they'd begun. “Why introduce us now?”

Desmond was in between them, all three of them crammed together tightly on the couch. “What do you mean? I just… thought it was time.”

“What's the real reason?” Clay jabbed him in the side. 

Shit. They knew him too well. 

“I… okay,” he ran a hand through his hair as he was thinking about it, “I met up with Shaun—my ex,” he explained, gesturing to Alex, who hummed in understanding (Clay having already known about him), “to kind of… I don't know, do a test-run on talking about… _this,_ ” he gestured between all of them, “to someone I knew. It, uh… didn't go well.”

“Shaun's a dick!” Clay blurted out, nearly spilling his drink in the process. “And not in the fun way, like me.”

“Or me,” Alex agreed. It made Desmond smile to see the camaraderie they had begun to share. 

“How did I end up with two dicks as my boyfriends?” he laughed. 

“Because… you make bad life decisions?” Clay shrugged. 

“I mean, I already knew that.” 

There was laughter, and a lull fell in the conversation. It was… nice. Clay was resting his head on Desmond's shoulder, Alex had an arm flung over the back of the couch, and it was comfortable. The casual drinking had affected them all, making Desmond relaxed, Clay affectionate, and Alex… 

Well, he'd seen Alex drunk before—that was how they'd met, for god's sake. And he'd learned a few more things about him in the time since. One, that he was a sloppy drunk, and two, that he was kind of a lightweight. That, coupled with his tendency to go for the hard shit… 

Alex getting grabby with him was a matter of when, not if.

They'd all discarded their layers earlier, and that left Alex in only the button-up he usually wore under it all. Buttons at the top and bottom were left undone, and the heat brought on by the inebriation (and the no doubt dirty thoughts in his head) left him sweating. They all were. The damp spots under his arms were made all the more notable by the thin white fabric of his shirt. 

God, some hedonistic part of Desmond wanted to bury his face in them and inhale, maybe even taste. He could blame it on being tipsy, but… it was pretty clear that that wasn't all it was. 

Alex gave him a knowing smirk, able to tell that he was having similarly filthy thoughts. He hated how well they could read him. Then he kissed him. 

Something about that made Desmond nervous. He'd never been publicly affectionate with one of them while the other was still in the room. Yeah, they all knew what was going on, but it was different when it was happening right in front of you. 

He felt Clay rise from his position, could feel his gaze on him as Alex kissed him harder. He had to know what was going through Clay's head…

He broke the kiss to look his way. But as always, there was no malice or envy in his stare. Only _want._

Clay kissed him next, and that was all the confirmation he needed to know that _this is okay, keep going._

There were even differences in the way they kissed. Clay tended towards submissive and affectionate, while Alex was all teeth and aggression, like he was trying to fucking eat him. 

Going back and forth between them both was literally breathtaking. Each time they got shorter, pulling him out of one and into the other with more frantic energy each time. He had to be the one to stop it—gasping, drooling, tearing up, god he loved it. 

Alex bit into his neck, pressing kisses into heated flesh and muttering. “You know… I could _taste_ him on you… tastes pretty good.” He was staring right at Clay as he said it, taunting, daring him to make a move. 

Clay took it—smashing their lips together so hard their teeth clicked, right in front of Desmond's face. _Holy shit._

Despite the force with which they went at it, there was still hesitance—the tentativeness that came with kissing someone new for the first time, no doubt. They parted briefly, gasping, eyes open as though confirming with one another, before diving back in, more confident this time. 

They were grabbing at each other, Clay's hands in Alex's shirt and Alex's hand in Clay's hair, one grasping in desperation and the other in dominance. The sounds that came from them both were incredible—the hiss as Clay bit Alex's lip, the moan as Alex sucked Clay's tongue. 

“ _Oh my god._ ”

They paused, looking at Desmond with amusement. He didn't realize he'd said that out loud. Fuck, he was disappointed he disrupted them. 

“Y'like what you see?” Alex taunted, running a hand up Desmond's shirt to tease his nipples. 

“Mmh, yeah, I—” he gasped as Clay pulled himself into his lap, unable to keep from blindly thrusting up against the solid weight of him on top, “Fuck—I… I like this a lot more than I thought I would…” he admitted, the remark punctuation with a broken moan as Alex pinched and twisted one nipple then the other. Desmond's hands slid down to Clay's ass, squeezing firmly as he pulled him down further. 

“What did you honestly expect to happen tonight?” Clay teased. His tone wasn't serious, but Desmond still found himself shrugging in earnest. That made him pause. “…Oh my god, you _wanted_ this to happen, didn't you?”

“N-no—! I mean, not initially…” Shit. 

That got an amused huff from Alex. “That still means you did want it to happen,” a harsher pinch, hard enough to redden surrounding flesh and make Desmond cry out, “I mean, I'm not complaining, I think it could be fun.” 

Clay nodded. “I'm not against it either, just… warn a guy beforehand, y'know?” 

“I… yeah, sorry, I just…” Independently they both kissed him, one after the other. “That, uh… that wasn't the only reason.” Might as well be out with it, since they were already here. 

He sat up straighter, his hands falling to Clay's hips and pulling him close. “Clay… do you remember what you said to me, the first night we met? What you asked for?”

Even if he didn't, that was an easy enough question. Clay smiled slyly, looking straight at Alex as he spoke. “Yeah, where I asked to be fucked so hard I couldn't walk in the morning?” 

That triggered something in Alex, who shot a hand out to grab Clay by the hair and tug him down, hard. It looked violent, and it would have worried Desmond, were it not from the delighted sound it drew from Clay. 

“Is that right?” Alex's voice dropped to a growl, the same growl he used when fucking Desmond into the mattress, “How hard do you like it? How much can you take?”

The fist in his hair had made him crane his head back, but he fought against it enough to stare right back at Alex, smiling. “As _hard_ as you can give me…”

His free hand wrapped around Clay's neck, not dangerously, just enough to hurt, just enough to make his eyes roll back. “You sure about that?” His tone was teasing, taunting, daring him to back down. 

Clay never backed down. The grip on his neck eased up enough for him to reply, “ _Harder._ ” 

They just barely heard Alex hiss a desperate _“Fuck—”_ before he rose, towering over them both. “Bedroom. **Now.** ”

They couldn't follow him fast enough. 

\---

“Okay, wait—” much as Desmond didn't want to stop them, he needed to say something. They both looked at him, Alex already pinning Clay down on the bed, “Look, I-I know this is hot, but I need you two to be careful. I know how you both can get—I don't want you fucking killing each other.”

Alex scoffed. “What, you don't trust me?”

“No, I don't trust _him,_ ” he directed a knowing glare at Clay, who gave him a smug grin in reply, “Clay doesn't know when to say when. He'll let you kill him if you're not careful.” 

That got an interested look from Alex, running a hand down his cheek. “You really are a freak, aren't you?” Clay nodded happily, eagerly sucking on the finger that was lifted to his lips. 

They seemed to have gotten into the groove of things fairly quickly. There was still hesitation in their actions, though, whether that was because it was their first time together, or the fact that Desmond was sitting back and watching them. At one point, Clay looked back at him, as though asking once more _is this okay?_ At Desmond's nod, he smiled, and continued. 

That was what was needed for Alex, too, evidently; he still had the same nervousness, he just didn't express it as blatantly. For a guy who was so stoic most of the time, Alex really had a motormouth when it came to dirty talking. Promises to leave Clay breathless, punctuated with the occasional threat of violence that thankfully Desmond knew he wouldn't act on (...probably). Every single one of which was met with sounds from Clay; gasps, moans, pleas for more and occasionally shooting back insults just to goad him on. 

It frustrated Alex, but didn't make him angry. Desmond could see the way he was smiling in between growls, like he'd finally met someone who could keep up with him, and judging by the way Clay was looking at Alex in turn, the feeling was mutual. The kisses shared between them were harsh and full of teeth, at one point breaking the skin and leaving them both desperately lapping the blood up off each others' lips. 

“You gonna stand there all day, or make yourself useful?” Alex called out to Desmond, bringing him back to the present from where he'd been zoning out. He was kind of glad he did—he would've stood there the whole night rubbing himself through his jeans, otherwise. 

“Y-yeah, um… what?” 

“I know you got lube around here someplace,” as he spoke he sat behind Clay, pinning his arms behind his back by twisting them, “If he's gonna be fucked 'till he can't walk, he needs to be prepped…” Even as he said it, he was nibbling on Clay's ear, drawing a wonderful sound out of him. 

“And get naked, while you're at it,” Clay added with a playful kick as Desmond passed, “Too many clothes.”

“God, you two are bitchy,” Desmond rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, unable to keep the smirk out of his voice even as he did so. He tried his damnedest to ignore the happy sighs and possessive growls from behind him, as well as his own arousal constricted too tightly in his jeans, while rifling through the bedside dresser. 

Throwing a half empty bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms at them (“Good call,” muttered to him by Alex), nearly tripping over his damn jeans as he struggled to get them off, and he was left kneeling in front of them. 

Clay whined in his throat as he watched him slick up his fingers, desperate and eager. Desmond shushed him with a kiss, taking in all those sounds when he pressed a finger in all the way. Clay really wasn't fragile, as to be expected, but Desmond refused to hurt him in _that_ way. Pain from sex was one thing, pain from being under-prepared was another. Clay still rocked against his fingers, impatient as ever. 

He was able to satiate him somewhat with his other hand—occasionally dipping to press into the spot underneath his balls, right above his hole, that spot that always made his toes curl and left him keening. 

At one point Alex asked Clay what else he liked, to which Clay could only whisper, with a quaver in his voice, an urgent plea to _bite._ Alex did so, gladly, into his shoulder, earning a sharp gasp that gave way to a beautiful moan. 

God, Desmond loved to hear it. 

Clay was really squirming by the time the second and third fingers were added, his impatience growing. “I'm _ready,_ Des! I'm not gonna break.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Alex purred. 

Clay visibly shuddered, “Fuck, is that a promise?” 

Desmond whined at that, practically able to feel the ache in his dick at this point. “You two are fucking hopeless…” 

“You'll get your turn too, don't you worry,” Alex reached out to draw a hand down Desmond's cheek, “And that _is_ a promise.”

He released Clay's hands after that, and Clay made a sound like he was disappointed. 

“Aw, what's wrong?” Alex cooed mockingly, “You wanna be tied up?” To which Clay could only nod eagerly at Alex's amused scoff. “Alright—Des, get my belt.” 

“God, when you say it like that, _I_ almost wanna be tied up,” and he was only somewhat kidding. Desmond retrieved the belt right as Alex was rolling on a condom and Clay situating himself on the bed. One pillow under his ass, the other under his head, spread diagonally across the bed with his arms up and wrists overlapped, waiting to be tied up. 

Desmond wrapped the belt twice around his wrists before tugging it through the loop. With the angle Clay was positioned at, he was able to slip the belt onto the bedpost as well, spreading him out further. Clay tested the restraints with a light tug, seeming pleased when they didn't move by much. 

Desmond found himself unable to keep from kissing Clay, then stroking his hair back in a weirdly tender moment, given the circumstances. “Let me know if it's too much, okay? Anything, anytime you need to stop…” 

“I know, Des,” he smiled, “I will, I promise.” 

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly, evidently feeling like he was intruding. Desmond leaned in to kiss him too, hopefully silencing his worries. “Give it to him good, Alex.” 

That brought some of his confidence back. He smiled, giving a parting kiss as Desmond sat back, and lined himself up against Clay. Before thrusting in, he took the time to run his hands down Clay's body, along his thighs, spreading him wider, purposely ignoring his cock and drawing a needy moan from him because of it. 

“You got good taste in men, Des,” he growled, the haze of lust returning to his voice, “He's real cute.” Clay whined, squirming underneath his gaze. “Why don't you beg for me, then I'll think about giving you what you want…” 

“ _Please!_ ” Clay gasped, “God, _give it to me,_ Alex, I need it so bad—give it to me _hard,_ please!” 

Alex grunted a quick “Fuck—” and drove in, in one smooth motion until he was buried up to the root. They cried out at the same time, Clay's much louder and drowning him out. 

In the pause that followed, Alex took to marking Clay up—scratching down his sides hard enough to leave raised red lines, sucking and biting a mark into his neck that was sure to bruise terribly, letting a hand too tightly grasp his cock and give one firm stroke upwards, drawing out another dribble of thick precum. 

All of it had Clay keening, practically tearing up, a constant string of pleas falling from his lips without care. Soon enough he was begging for Alex to move, after a brief mention of _how fucking **deep** inside he felt…_

…But not before drawing attention to Desmond once again. 

“Des—!” Clay gasped, causing him to pause and look up, “Don't be touching yourself…” 

Desmond groaned, letting the hand fall from his cock, “Why?”

“'Cause, I want you to fuck me after this, I wanna go _again_ right after.”

Desmond whined and let himself fall to his side, holding his body snugly against Clay's, “How the hell am I supposed to last when you keep saying shit like that?”

Clay gave a breathless laugh, that gave way to another moan as Alex grinded against him, trying to press even deeper inside. He leaned in to kiss Clay, before asking, “Ready?” Clay grinned, eagerly, nodding and trying to push against Alex in the same movement. 

The grip Alex had on Clay's hips was harsh, but not nearly as much as when he started moving. Knees planted firmly on the bed, he drew back with an inhale, then thrust back in, and didn't stop. 

Every thrust came so fast and so hard, rocking the bed until the posts hit the wall, the speed creating an awful sound, the slap of skin on skin made all the more vulgar by the accompanying wetness. 

And all Desmond could do was lay back and take it all in. The way he could see the muscles in Alex's abdomen flex with the strain, how his hair had fallen from its previously slicked back style to stick to his forehead with sweat, the way he grit his teeth until his jaw trembled. Clay was in an even worse state; his arms shaking as he tugged against the restraints, the tears that had been threatening to fall out finally doing so and pooling in his ears, the way his voice grew higher the move overwhelmed he was. 

There was that feeling again—that warmth, that fondness and affection he felt for them both made so much more intense by the undercurrent of arousal. 

Fuck, it made his heart hurt. And his dick. 

At some point, Alex's hands move from grabbing Clay by the hips to grabbing him by the neck, his grip hard as he used this new point to balance himself and continue his brutal pace. Clay let out a surprised gasp that turned into a choke, but was smiling at the new contact. The rise and fall of his chest was quicker and more uneven, his moans giving way to more gasps that grew shorter and more panicked. 

The combination of Alex hammering away at him and the lack of oxygen to his brain had his eyes rolling back and his face turning a concerning shade of red. The only warning he gave was with a broken and choked cry, his body arching and going stiff, feet planted firmly in the mattress—then he was cumming, his pained cry turning to a sob. 

Alex slowed only slightly, keeping his thrusts short and deep as Clay rode it out. His grip on Clay's neck eased as well, allowing him to take in desperate gasps and sob more openly. Tentatively he ran a hand down Clay's cheek, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. 

He stopped altogether. “Are you… was that alright?” he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. Clay seemed… confused by the question, looking to Desmond as though he'd have the answer. 

Desmond kissed Clay's cheek, “He's fine. He _likes_ the over-stimulation, even if it leads to him crying…” To emphasize his point, his hand fell to Clay's cock, stroking gently, yet it elicited a sudden, intense, full-bodied twitch from him, as well as a deep, satisfied groan. Desmond smiled at him and gave him another kiss. “You like that?”

“L-like it…” Clay agreed, still squirming when the touch left. His voice was a little rough from having been choked. 

“Want Alex to keep fucking you?” 

His only response that time was a needy whine and a nod. And that was all Alex needed to keep going. 

His grip returned to Clay's hips after that, hanging his head as he tried to pick up his previous pace. He worked himself back up quickly, his hold on Clay becoming tighter to compensate for the way the other man thrashed underneath him. 

This thrashing was made even worse when Desmond placed a hand on Clay, lazily playing with his cock and making him hard again. Clay had mostly gone nonverbal, left making only whines and groans deep in his throat. 

The only warning Alex could give to signify that he was close was a rough swear under his breath, slamming into Clay hard enough that he was sure the impact would leave a bruise, mostly silent save for a strained grunt as he came. 

He pulled out quickly, slinking away to the edge of the bed, while Desmond moved in to take his place. That was typical of Alex, suddenly becoming reclusive after sex. He'd be fine after a while. 

In the meantime, Desmond took to comforting Clay, soothing the scratches and bruises with gentle kisses and soft touches. 

An urgent whimper from Clay drew him out of it. “What's wrong?” Clay looked up at his hands. “Get rid of the belt?” A nod. A slight shuffle as Desmond struggled to lean over and untangle it, Clay sighing happily once he did so. He examined the marks left on his wrists and stretched his hands, then reached up to pull Desmond down against him. The kisses between them were sweet yet heated, ending with Desmond nuzzled against his neck, muttering a soft, “ _There's my guy…_ ” that left Clay smiling. 

He barely registered Alex rejoining them until he had thrown the box of condoms at Desmond's head. 

“Jesus Christ, Alex,” Desmond sighed, ignoring both the delighted giggles from Clay and the hushed snickering of Alex as he took to prepping himself. It wasn't until he was lined up, already pressing in easily from how open Clay was, that he noticed what the two of them were doing. 

They were kissing, but seemed more comfortable with it, and with each other. He'd hoped so, considering they were literally fucking a few minutes prior, but it still made him happy to see… in more ways than one. 

He hated to break it up, but he ended up doing so as he slid inside Clay, leaving him keening his name in the process. While Alex took to slowly stroking Clay's cock, leaving him shaking from how sensitive he still was. 

Slowly they got back into the groove, thankfully Desmond only having to worry about fucking Clay, Alex taking care of the rest for him. In hindsight, it was probably a mistake letting him go after Alex, since he knew he couldn't give Clay the same brutal pace. All he could do was his best. 

“Talk to me,” Alex demanded, pulling away from where he was biting a mark into Clay's skin. Clay looked over at him with a whimper. “Tell me what you like. What's something you want that Des would never do to you?”

Something about that made Clay shiver. He paused to consider the question, then smiled—that wide, deranged-looking grin that Desmond recognized. It was the look he had when he was really far gone, when the arousal and overstimulation set in and he started getting really wild ideas. 

“I… I wanna get a _knife_ involved…” he whispered excitedly. 

That made them gasp, both Desmond and Alex, the latter giving a firm squeeze to Clay's cock. “Yeah? And what do you wanna do with it?” his voice was rough, practically growling. Evidently he'd hit that point of too-far-goneness as well. That felt dangerous, to Desmond, having them both in that state of too-horny-to-care. 

“C-cut me…” Clay whined, “mmh, let me taste it… my blood… I wanna see my blood _on your cock…_ ”

“ _Oh my god…_ ” Alex gasped, seeming almost… flustered, judging by the way he buried his face in Clay's neck. Desmond could see him blushing again, that same adorable pink shade that looked so nice on him. He was already hard again, thrusting weakly against Clay's side. Even Clay was smirking at his reaction. 

While he gathered himself, Desmond leaned in to further kiss Clay, leaving a trail of them down his face and neck while grinding against him. The grinding was what did it for him, left him keening Desmond's name as his cock steadily drooled over Alex's hand. 

Alex came back to them eventually, his fist working harder at Clay's cock. “Keep going,” he demanded, trying to hide the neediness of his command with a grunt. 

Clay could only smirk briefly before the combined efforts of his fist and Desmond's cock left him breathless. “Fuck… r-right here—” he lifted a hand to his side, right above his hip, right where Alex had been rocking against him, “—cut me open _right here…_ and _fuck me,_ s-shove your cock in there and fill me up with your cum—” he was cut off with another cry, Alex squeezing the head of his cock so hard it turned purple. “Mm… fuck me harder, Des, please…”

God, his core was already aching, but he nodded. He replanted his knees in the mattress and tightened his grip, half hunched over as he forced himself to thrust through the pain. Clay's appreciative moan of his name almost made it worth it. 

Evidently not one to be outdone, Alex's hand on him sped up as well. “Y'know…” he growled, “I can think of another place we can put that knife…” He let the implication hang in the air for a moment, the image of it finally getting to Clay and making him throw his head back and cry out. 

“Oh fffuck—! Mm, 'm close, 'm gonna…!” His cries broke off into gasps, his voice cracking as he rambled out meaningless pleas and swears and half-formed words. 

When it came, he screamed, his second orgasm hitting much harder than the first. He was crying again, harder, gasping desperately in between sobs. 

And he had become so _unbearably_ tight around Desmond, practically squeezing the orgasm out of him. He couldn't even thrust anymore, leaving him gasping as Clay clenched around him like a vice. All he could do was groan Clay's name as they both rode it out. 

Things slowed down considerably after that, and for a while the only sound was their combined panting and the creaking of the bed underneath them. Desmond pulled out slowly, shivering at the sensation of Clay's body still twitching around him. It occurred to him, as he was tying a knot into and discarding the condom, how cold everything felt now. Literally, the night air chilled everything around them; their sweat, the lube, their cum…

The cum that Alex was wiping off Clay's stomach and feeding back to him, he just noticed. Just to fucking taunt him, he suspected, judging by the way Clay made a show of licking Alex's fingers clean every time. They paused at hearing Desmond's defeated groan. 

“Jesus Christ, you two,” he whined, allowing himself to collapse to the other side of Alex. He was hitting that point of exhaustion, ready to fall asleep at any moment. Alex wasn't having that, though, pulling himself upright and towering over Desmond. 

“You're not done yet—I still wanna fuck you,” he paused, “…w-when you're ready.” 

His bashfulness made Desmond smile; it was really cute. “Thanks for asking first, I guess,” he found himself stretching, “I'll be ready to go in a bit, just give me a minute. Not all of us like the overstimulation.” He shot a look at Clay, who just smirked at him. 

Clay returned to his side, much in the same way Alex had previously been against his. Desmond threw an arm around him and pulled him closer, enjoying the affectionate way Clay nuzzled into his neck. At the same time, Clay hooked a leg around Desmond's, pulling him open and locking them together in the same motion. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably in this suddenly languid moment, seeming to not know what to do with himself when the situation wasn't sexual. 

“You're welcome to join us,” Desmond offered, patting the free space next to him invitingly. 

Alex just shook his head, his face turning slightly pink again. 

“Why?” Clay looked up at him, “Are you worried about your masculinity or something?”

“No, it's nothing like that,” Alex scoffed, sitting back on his haunches, “I just… I can't do physicality. …It makes me feel like I'm suffocating.” 

A collective nod in understanding from the others, pretty concisely putting an end to that discussion. Instead of joining them, Alex returned to hovering over Desmond and kissing him until they were both panting and red in the face. 

It was interesting, how Alex's movements seemed to be trying to arouse without being overwhelming; the kissing, the way he raked his nails across Desmond's inner thighs while avoiding his dick altogether, the gentle bite into his nipples, one after the other. The latter especially made his toes curl. 

And it worked, slowly working him back up until he was whimpering for more. 

“Mm, how do you want to do this?”

Desmond already knew how he wanted it, but it felt embarrassing to say. He never was good with dirty talk, not in the way either one of them were. He bit his lip and tried to hide his face in his hands, mumbling out his reply. 

Alex was smirking at him, and gently pulled his hands away. “What was that?”

He clenched his eyes shut, and with a whine he spoke more clearly. “I… I like your fingers… Use them…”

“Use them how?”

“I-I want them inside me…”

Alex gave a pleased hum at his admission, releasing him with a kiss to the head and a mutter of “ _Good boy,_ ” that made Desmond shiver. As he drizzled lube into his palm and over his fingers, Clay decided to start teasing him. 

“I see why you like him, Des,” he grinned, “Long fingers, long dick… You like it deep, don't you?” 

Desmond's face was burning at it being said so brazenly. “Y-yeah… I do…”

“Then I'll give it to you deep,” Alex growled, drawing another excited whine from Desmond. 

Despite that, he still went slow, pressing a single finger in gently, withdrawing it slowly, then pushing all the way in. It left Desmond keening, a long drawn-out sigh leaving him, only broken by his breath hitching as Alex hit his prostate and then went _further._ Fuck, he really did love it deep. 

He nodded his go-ahead to Alex to continue, a second finger pushing in alongside the first. The familiar burn returned, alleviated somewhat by the way that Alex stroked that spot inside him, leaving Desmond rocking back against him with a soft moan. 

While Clay was paying attention to his upper half, and fuck, he knew just how to make Desmond squirm. Rubbing and pinching his nipples until they were hardened and red, then using his mouth on them and _sucking._ While his hand moved elsewhere, teasing his cock by ghosting his fingers over the length just lightly enough to make it twitch and leak, never wrapping his fist around it. No friction, no relief. 

Desmond hadn't even noticed the third finger slipping inside him until it was already there. The burn was short-lived, lost in the sensations of everything else. 

“Ready?” Alex asked, his voice heavy with lust. Desmond rocked back against his fingers one more time before nodding. Then he was achingly empty, only satiated somewhat by head nudging against his hole, but not enough. Alex smirked at him, “I like hearing you beg for me, why don't you do it again?”

Desmond squirmed under his intense gaze, even more so when he noticed Clay watching him too. “ _Please…_ Alex, I-I need… I want you to _fuck me,_ I need to feel you inside me—!” His plea was cut off with a sharp cry, as Alex slowly pushed inside him, all the way down to the root in one smooth thrust. 

It had his eyes rolling back and a loud, needy moan leaving him that silenced everything else in the room. He couldn't even pretend to be embarrassed at that point. 

Clay pulled away from his chest with a pop. “Mm, that's a good sound…”

“It is,” Alex hummed, “Fuck, is it really that good for you?”

Desmond could only give a slight nod and gasp, “D-deep…”

That had Alex hissing “Fuck—” under his breath and grinding against him, as though there was some way he could get deeper. 

“A-Alex…” Desmond tapped on his shoulder urgently, “pull… pull all the way out, then go all the way back in…”

Alex nodded, slowly withdrawing until just the head remained, then just as slowly plunged back in, eliciting from Desmond a wonderful full-bodied shudder and another loud moan. 

“Mmh, just like that…” 

The pace was incredibly slow, practically tantric, and he could feel Alex's impatience in the anxious tremble in his entire body. Obviously he wasn't used to waiting or taking his time, but Desmond didn't care at that point. The irregularity that came with the act, Alex not always going all the way in and all the way out, made it feel like he was somehow getting deeper every single time. 

Something about that really did it for Desmond. 

He only then noticed all the other ways Clay was occupying himself: rutting against him, licking up the sweat that formed on his neck, even lapping up the precum that was gathering on Desmond's stomach. He tangled a hand in Clay's hair, alternating between stroking and pulling in a way that left Clay moaning against him. 

Desmond found himself smirking at Alex's frustrated grunt. “What's wrong, Alex; impatient?” 

“Yes!” he finally stopped, releasing Desmond's legs and planting his fists either side of him, “I'm not used to waiting this fucking long—it's infuriating!”

“No wonder you're so mad all the time,” that earned him a soft punch in the leg, “Haven't you ever tried to take it slow?”

“No! And I hate it!” That got a concerned look from Desmond, worried that he was making him do something he didn't want. “No, I-I'll do it for you, if you want, I just…”

Desmond sighed. “Alex… come here.”

He disentangled himself from Clay (Clay taking the hint and removing himself momentarily) to wrap his arms around Alex and pull him down. The kiss between them was just as slow, Desmond was determined to make it… romantic. Hopefully Alex wouldn't catch on and subsequently shut down. 

If he did, he didn't show it, allowing Desmond to continue with whatever it was he was doing. One hand combed through Alex's hair, the other stroking down the nape of his neck and making him shiver, before continuing down. He could feel Alex's spine, tracing every vertebrae individually, moving his free hand to the front now to trace every single one of his ribs. 

Alex broke away with a gasp when Desmond nibbled at his lip, not enough to hurt, just to tease. His breath was shaky and his arms trembling underneath him. 

“Keep going…” Desmond whispered, kissing him once more, “A little harder, but keep going…”

Alex hummed in reply. His pace was unsteady, as was his grip, but he started moving again. Every thrust was deep, but he wasn't bottoming out every time, making the times when he was all the more intense. When Desmond wasn't throwing his head back in ecstasy, he was watching Alex; his pupils blown out, lips ruddy and shiny with spit, his entire face and neck flushed pink. 

“I love you,” Desmond gasped, pressing his forehead against Alex's, “I love you, Alex… god, faster, please…”

Alex made a noise in his throat—a _whimper_ —something Desmond had literally never heard from him before. 

He could feel the bedposts hitting the wall again as Alex sped up. Their grip on each other became more desperate, Alex digging into him with his nails, Desmond holding on to him by his shoulders, occasionally pulling him back down so their lips brushed against each other. 

“I love you, Alex,” he whispered again, “I do, I love you so much, I really do— _ **yes,**_ just like that, right there…”

There was still a tension in Alex, Desmond could practically hear him straining under the anxiety. _Still not enough._

When his eyes weren't clenched shut in concentration, he was looking down at Desmond. There was a plea behind Alex's expression, a need for _more_ that Desmond wasn't fucking giving him. 

“D-Desmond…” 

There was an unspoken command in Desmond's eyes. _Say it._

“ _Please,_ Alex…”

“I-I…” Something in Alex broke, almost audibly. His shoulders relaxed, his head hung, time between them felt as though it had stopped completely. “Fuck… I-I… **I love you** …”

Desmond released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Time picked up again, color returned to their surroundings, the implicit go-ahead was given. 

His arms and legs wrapped around Alex, pulling him close, burying his face in Desmond's shoulder. A string of cries of his names and pleas to _keep going, don't stop_ left Desmond without structure. 

Alex was back, the soft whimpers he'd be making previously replaced with his usual harsh grunts. The brutal pace he'd previously used on Clay returned, only… was it faster? Jesus Christ, Desmond could feel it in his core, like Alex was pounding away at him until his internal organs lost all shape, it almost felt like too much—

Until it was ripping Desmond's orgasm out of him, pulling with it a desperate cry from deep inside him. 

The speed of it all allowed him to ride it out, and in the back of his mind he was worried it would keep up until he was too sensitive—until Alex froze inside him with a deep groan that Desmond could feel reverberating in his chest. 

The hold they had on each other was tight, only easing up when they were both shaking and sweaty from the aftermath. Alex released him pretty quickly after that, despite the whine Desmond made at his weight and warmth leaving him. 

Until Clay took his place, startling Desmond out of his lust clouded haze. 

“Didn't forget about me, did you?” Clay teased. 

“I… kinda had, actually,” Desmond laughed, but welcomed his presence all the same. In his peripheral he could Alex standing, stretching, and cleaning himself up. 

“That's the benefit of having the two of us around,” mused Clay, “Someone's always there for you, for whatever you need.” 

“Aww, that's sweet,” Desmond pulled him closer, ignoring the mock-disgusted gag from Alex very deliberately trying to spoil the mood. That was harder to do when Clay started laughing at it. 

The bed dipped to his side when Alex rejoined them and, despite his earlier reaction, kissed them both. He even welcomed it when Desmond tried to hold his hand. That was about as good at physical, non-sexual affection got with him, evidently. 

At some point, Desmond's eyes fell shut and he began drifting off, exhaustion finally catching up with him. The first time he was roused from that was when Clay pulled himself upright, him and Alex apparently having decided to keep going without him. 

“Hey,” Desmond grunted, “Don't kill each other while I'm out, okay?”

“No promises,” from Alex, and giggling from Clay were the last things he heard when he dozed off again. 

The second time he found them actually fucking. Clay on his hands and knees, Alex fucking him from behind with a tight grip on his hair. He remembered idly noticing the way Clay's back arched beautifully and the way Alex bared his teeth when he was growling. Even when half-awake, he couldn't stop thinking about how much he loved them. 

At some point his hand reached out and grasped Clay's, a very sweet gesture that left Clay smiling at him. The last thing he heard was Alex threatening to rip Clay's spine out and Clay moaning in response. 

The third time he woke up was when they were done. It was… quieter. He could barely make out their hushed mutters to each other, before he felt himself being whispered to. Clay, urging him to scoot over and get under the blankets. Sounded like a great idea. With a warm body against him, he slept for the rest of the night. 

\---

That warmth was still there the morning after, but a little further away. Desmond chased it, finding himself pressed against Clay's back and earning a happy sigh from the other man. 

“Mornin',” Desmond muttered against him, pressing a kiss to Clay's shoulder. 

Clay grunted in reply, entwining his fingers with those of the arm thrown over him. 

It was still too early for them both. At least, Desmond assumed so, he hadn't bothered to check the clock, but it was light out. 

They laid together for a moment longer, fading in and out of sleep further, occasionally shifting positions and sharing kisses. He honestly loved these kinds of mornings with Clay. He couldn't really imagine them happening with Alex—but that felt like it was okay, and that was the best part. 

Although, now that he was thinking about it… He should check if Alex was even still there. 

He gently nudged Clay off from where he was nuzzling against his chest. “How're you feeling?”

Clay smiled, stretching a little and letting slip a soft moan. “Good. Tired.” 

“Can you walk?” Desmond teased. 

“Mmh… I don't think so,” his smile grew wider, “everything still hurts, I can barely feel my legs…” a hand fell beneath the sheets and he winced, “ _Fuck,_ that ache in my ass is going to be there for _days,_ I just know it.”

He was still smiling, and so was Desmond. He knew Clay well enough to know that those were all positives in his book. Desmond kissed him one more time before pulling himself out of bed. 

Much as Clay might have liked the ache left in him, Desmond didn't. At least, not as much. It took him longer than perhaps necessary to get out of bed, pull on a discarded pair of boxers (that were probably his), and limp his way out of the room, making a point of ignoring the slight snicker he could hear from Clay as he left. 

He hadn't realized it until now, but there was noise from elsewhere in the apartment. 

Alex was still there; reclining on the sofa, in a similar state of dress as him, evidently having gone through their DVD collection and picked out something to watch. From the looks of it, one of the stupid horror movies that Clay loved so much. 

_Why did that not surprise him in the slightest._

“Hey,” Alex greeted, not looking up from the TV. 

“Hey…” Desmond greeted in return, stretching, “What time is it?”

“Like, almost noon.” 

“And how long have you been up?”

Alex shrugged. “Few hours. Since, like, six.”

“ _Why?_ ” Desmond laughed. 

“'Cause I work for a living and have to get up early,” Alex smirked at him. “But, more broadly… I was actually up a little earlier, slept on the couch for a while.” Another look of _why?_ “I can't share a bed with you two, it's too cramped, I didn't want you touching me all night.” 

“So you opted for the couch, like that was gonna be more comfortable.” 

“Didn't ask you,” there was still amusement in his dismissive tone. 

“What are ya watching?” Desmond gingerly sat next to him, only to have the DVD case thrown at him. “ _House of Wax_ … this is the remake, yeah?” 

“Mmhm. I saw you had both versions, so I watched the original earlier.”

“And? What's the verdict, Mr. Ebert?”

Alex scoffed. “I mean, the original is classic horror, y'can't beat it. The remake has a disfigured serial killer in it, for god's sake. In the original, it at least made sense—dude was an artist, loved his figures, willing to die with them—but not here.”

Desmond found himself laughing. “God, you sound just like Clay. These are his movies, and he's full of opinions on them.”

“He's got good taste. …In genre, I mean, not in this thing.”

“He likes to compare remakes and originals, just like you're doing. Complain to him, not to me.” He moved to get up, only to be stopped by the twinge in his lower half. “You really did a number on me last night, you know that?”

“I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not apologizing,” Alex smirked, earning himself a punch in the arm. 

“Wouldn't expect you to.” With another grunt Desmond finally was able to pull himself up, trying to ignore Alex's gaze on him as he did. 

“I got food, if you're hungry,” Alex shrugged after him, “Figured it's the least I could do.” 

That… sounded really considerate, until Desmond looked at the counter and saw a cardboard box waiting for him. 

“Really, Alex? Pizza?” 

“What?” he sounded half-offended. “I don't cook, Des, you should know that.”

“But why _pizza?_ It's not even noon yet.”

“God, you sound like my sister. Always on my ass about eating shit at the right time, like it's a fucking law or something.” 

Desmond could only shake his head and laugh. It was too early to get into this (“this” being the fact that Alex acted like he was in fucking college despite being nearly thirty). Instead he busied himself with fishing out a couple plates and a couple slices. 

“I figured with Clay's, uh… _things_ that he's got going on,” Alex gestured vaguely to his head to indicate what he was talking about, “that it was probably best to play safe with the food.” 

Desmond nodded. “Good call. And you're right, he doesn't like busy food. Anytime we try to order pizza, half plain half toppings, he's always complaining about how he can taste the toppings on his side, even if they aren't there.” A shrug. “He's sensitive to this stuff.”

Alex only nodded as he passed, returning to the bedroom with his two plates. He had barely set one down before Clay was stirring, having woken more in the time since. At seeing what he was carrying, he grunted out a soft demand of “food,” and took the plate for him. Desmond smiled and pressed a kiss to his head, before sitting beside him. 

“Yeah. Sorry it's… what it is, I know it's not exactly breakfast, but…”

“Time isn't real, Des,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

That made him laugh again. “Y'know… honestly, I was worried what it would be like when I introduced you two, but now I'm realizing how alike you two are. Alex said basically the same thing.” 

They ate in relative silence after that, yet right before they were done… “Alex is watching your movies, you know.”

Clay nearly choked. “What?! Did he mess up my system?!”

“I mean, probably.”

“Goddammit,” he threw himself back onto the pillows dramatically, “I'd kick his ass if I could walk right now.” 

Desmond smiled. “How many times did you two fuck after I passed out?”

A shrug. “I think just twice. But it was good,” he smiled, “God, I was shaking at the end of it all, that's how you know it was good.”

“I'm glad you thought so.” Alex's voice from the doorway startled them both. He welcomed himself in, throwing himself lengthwise at the foot of the bed. “How you two holding up?” 

“I mean, I'm still in pain, and Clay…” he looked to Clay and noticed him staring at the bedside table. “Oh my god—Alex, you didn't clean those up?!”

The condoms from the night before sat in a pile, all tied off (thank god) and filled. 

“What? One of those is yours, too—and it's your house.” Even as he complained he was moving to sit up and take care of it. 

“I mean, or we could do something fun with them,” Clay grinned at them, “You ever watch hentai? Y'seen that thing where they tie used condoms to your belt to show off what a slut you are?”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Clay,” Desmond groaned, covering his face in his hands. Already Clay was cackling at the reaction, he could even hear the faint sound of Alex laughing under his breath.

“I'm surprised _you_ watch hentai,” Alex shrugged, ignoring the _don't-encourage-him-_ look Desmond shot at him, “I thought you weren't into girls?”

“What, a gay guy can't have a waifu?” Then they were both laughing at the pained groan from Desmond. 

“I **hate** the words that come out of your mouth, sometimes,” in spite of himself, he was smiling. “Introducing you two was a mistake.” 

“You got that right,” Alex laughed as he was walking out. 

While Clay pulled Desmond down into the bed, just so he could rest his head on his chest like a tired cat. “And now you're stuck with us.” 

Though it was a joke, Desmond still reflected on the thought. _Now you're stuck with us._

Yeah. Yeah, he really was. 

And he couldn't be happier.

**Epilogue**

How did he always end up in a club even on his nights off? At least he didn't have to be the one serving drinks.

Maybe it was just his bias speaking, but the club they'd been dragged to felt… pretty basic. Still nice, just a little cheap. Evidently that was the only circumstance in which being cheap got to him. Clay advised him against being so snobby, lest he start turning into Alex. 

They were still waiting around for Alex and the girls' other girl, in the meantime chatting about literally anything else. Clay and Becca's work, Lucy's PhD, Desmond being low-key snobby about the bartender's drink making skills. 

The question of what exactly Clay and Alex were to each other at that point still came up in Desmond's mind. He'd talked to them about it, and even they hadn't been able to come to anything solid; besides the fact that they enjoyed fucking each other and didn't emotionally connect with one another the same way they did with Desmond. 

And that was fine with them. Now they just had to wait until Des made the same connection in his mind. 

“There she is!” Rebecca stood suddenly, “And your boy, too.” 

Desmond craned his head back to see Alex coming for them, along with… 

“Dana? What're you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I'm here for the date.”

That made him pause, even as he watched her greet Lucy and Rebecca with a kiss each, even as she sat across from Alex, even as everybody was watching his confused expression. “…Wait.”

Clay snickered from beside him. “Des, did you really not know?”

“W… no! Nobody ever said…” he trailed off as he looked around desperately, seeing no other surprised reactions, only amused ones. He really was the only one who didn't know. That… that was embarrassing. 

Even Dana was laughing now, the same delighted, wonderful sound he'd heard from Alex on only a few other occasions. “Alex, did you only get with this guy so you could feel smarter in comparison?”

“What, is it that obvious?” Alex shot back as he was throwing an arm around Desmond and kissing his head. “I think I'll keep him anyway.”

“God, you're a dick,” Desmond elbowed him in the side, “and so is she, I see how you two are related.”

“Uh, excuse you,” Dana held up a hand in mock offense, “I'm not a dick, I'm a cunt, thank you very much.”

“At least she's honest,” Alex laughed. 

At least the laughing at his expense was over, for a while, at least. 

“So, Des,” Dana spoke up again, “How did the three of you start going out? Alex doesn't talk to me about shit,” a kick in the leg from him to her, “so I haven't heard much.”

“I don't think I've heard this one either,” added Lucy. 

A look was shared between the three of them, until Desmond just laughed. 

“It's… it's a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guh. forgive the hokey ending. and clay being a memey, weeby shitlord. ~~dont act like it aint in-character, you know he would be lol~~
> 
> but that's that! one of the longest things i've ever written. first time trying to keep myself on a schedule, too. bunch of new things accomplished with this thing. 
> 
> ngl that was all i had planned for this, but i love this casual normal verse a lot, so i may end up coming back with some drabbles in the same universe. but this fic as is is all done. 
> 
> i really appreciate all the support yall have offered during this whole thing! much love, guys <3 much love to my wonderful betas for putting up with my nonsense for the duration of this thing, too
> 
> ~~((fun fact: ebert did actually review the house of wax remake when it came out. went about as well as you'd expect lmao))~~


End file.
